


The Boy Who Cried Wolf

by 316_frogs



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gender Dysphoria, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Mental Health Issues, Paranoia, Section 8, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 14:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21181040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/316_frogs/pseuds/316_frogs
Summary: Klinger: I'm crazy!1!1!Literally Everyone else: No you're not lmaoKlinger: *actually is mentally ill*Everyone: :00 how could we have possibly foreseen this?!?!?





	The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Klinger has been through a lot of shit since he joined that man’s army and he’d do anything to get out. He’s tried practically everything, even several times at the cost of his own well being. But Klinger’s never wanted to be actually crazy, he’d leave that to the real nuts (though he’d never admit that he wasn’t one.) Klinger never thought he’d go actually crazy in his attempts to get that section, least of all he never thought he’d refuse a section eight. Normally Klinger would jump to his feet at the notion of getting a section eight, but now, when he has a real shot at it, he backs away. Yeah, he’s wanted a section eight since he got drafted over two years ago but he doesn’t want to get it like this.

So what if he always has a creeping feeling that someone is watching or following him? It makes him more alert for watch duty. Besides, it’s not paranoia if North Koreans really could be peering at him through a scope or waiting for him to drop his guard. 

So what if he doesn’t recognize himself when he looks in the mirror? Who needs a stable identity anyways? He’s the town nut and refuses to be seen as anything else. But maybe just once, he wished he could see that proudly smiling kid from Toledo instead of this desperate man with a broken look in his eye. 

So what if he began to talk to himself a few weeks ago? That was nothing new or different, he’d tried it hundreds of times in the past. The only thing different about this time was he was getting lost in the discussions and arguments being made in his head. It helped pass the time and Klinger convinced himself it was to make the others believe he was crazy. He can’t remember when he stopped doing for appearances and did it for himself.

So what if morbid thoughts pop into his head without respite? He’s always had a great imagination since he was a kid. It must’ve been tainted by seeing so much blood and gore. That must be the reason why he looks at those kids being given last rites and imagines himself in their place. Or why he stares at his rifle longer than he should. Or why a multitude of scenarios of his death play constantly in his head. 

So what if he doesn’t feel real anymore? Reality stinks! Besides, it’s easier not to throw up when you feel like a puppet on strings. Makes life more bearable and puts dulls blunt of the world.

But none of that meant anything. It still won’t get him a section eight. His mood swings wouldn’t help anyone, so he buries them deep down and never lets his overwhelming sense of regret and loss see the light of day. And so it festers and simmers until he’s left a nihilist. 

When Sidney swings by camp for poker, Klinger considers taking him aside and telling about his problems. So he decides to do so:

“Hey, Sid. Can I, uh, talk to you outside for a minute, doc?” Sidney looks mildly surprised but cleans up his meal and joins Klinger outside the mess tent.

“So, what’s up, Klinger? Need new advice on how to get a section eight?”

“Well, I, uh, yes and no. See, I’ve been having this problem that I don’t really know what to do about.” Sidney appears intrigued, and Klinger is starting to be hesitant. 

Logically, he knows Sidney can help him and won’t judge, but still.

“Go on.”

“I’m real scared, doc. I think I’m actually goin’ crazy!”

“And why do you think that?”

“I keep lookin’ over my shoulder, but no one’s there. And.. and I’m talking to myself constantly!” Klinger can feel the hope of getting better slip through his fingers. He knows he sounds like he’s bucking for a section eight, but he doesn’t know how to really talk about his feelings. Sidney looks like he expected as much.

“Is that all, Klinger?”

“I know I sound like I’m gunning for a section, and I always am, but I really am crazy this time. All the time, I’m arguing with myself; I’m paranoid to a fault! All these crazy thoughts keep popping into my head!” 

“Crazy how?” Klinger looks confronted, as if he didn’t expect to be expected to explain how his thoughts were crazy. It suddenly occurs to Klinger that such thoughts of seeing oneself dead might entitle them to be put on suicide watch, which would only keep him here longer.

“Well, I uh, I see dead kids when I close my eyes.” Klinger didn’t specify the dead kid he saw most often was himself. Sidney was surprised. He certainly didn’t expect Klinger to be this bashful. He was either a damn fine actor or this was really bugging him.

“I wouldn’t call you crazy just yet. After all you’ve seen, it’s perfectly normal to be haunted by the dead after seeing such young lifeless faces on a daily basis.” Klinger can’t help but think, it should have been his young, dead face on the ground. “Maybe you should take some time off for some RnR. It could really help.”

“Yeah, thanks doc.” Klinger sounded put out, but as far as Sidney was concerned Klinger just had a little stress and his job was done.

“Anytime.” Sidney held up his hand in goodbye and walked back to the mess tent for more coffee.

Sidney left the next day. Klinger decided to take his advice and take some RnR. He approached Potter in his office.

“Hello, my dear colonel Potter,” He dragged out the hello as he paraded into the office. He wore his fatigues, but with a large flowery hat.

“What do you want Klinger?” He never even looked up from signing some papers. Klinger took off his hat and cleared his throat in appeal.

“I would like to request some RnR in Seoul-” He began with a grand tone.

“You got it. Radar, get me the-” Radar bustled in carrying the anticipated form.

“Form. Yes, sir. Here you go, sir.” He watched Potter sign for a second before turning his attention to the dumbfounded Klinger. “Oh, that’s a real nice hat you got there Klinger.”

“Oh, yeah thanks.” He looked down at the hat and mumbled it out. Then he looked up at the colonel, who was handing Radar some paper, and said incredulously, “Really sir? Just like that?”

“Why are you so surprised, son? You need it.”

“Yeah, but all the other times I’ve asked for some you usually turn me down!”

“You should thank Sidney, he put in a good word or two for you. You get three days.” Klinger was honestly surprised anything good came out of that conversation with Sidney but glad for it. “Now, get outta here before I change my mind.” Klinger saluted with his hat.

“Sir, yes, sir!” With that, he spun on his heel and retreated to his tent to pack. He couldn’t believe it! He was getting outta here! He was gonna go get drunk and hook up with girls and just be the man he used to be again. He wasn’t going to pack any dresses. He needed to reaffirm his identity alone in the big city. When he went to pack, he had an array of costumes and drag but depressingly few amounts of regular clothes. Still, it was for three days so he didn’t need that many clothes. 

Before long, he was in a jeep headed to Seoul. He had planned the entire trip last night. He would stay at his favorite motel, then go off to a bar then bring a girl back for the night. He’d repeat that three times and he was sure he’d be right as rain.

Step one was done. He had a cozy little room and unpacked. Onto step two. He headed for a bar. On the way, it started to rain, but it was a short walk. He didn’t get too soaked. 

With wet hair, he ordered a beer and made light conversation with the other contenders. Something about the rain or the beer just put a whole damper on his mood. His throat was taught and he could barely find an appetite despite not having eaten lunch. The sound of the rain outside seemed to echo throughout his soul. The world became fuzzy and Klinger sunk back from reality. 

He has no idea how long he was in that trance like state, but his beer was now lukewarm and the people beside him had changed faces. Deciding enough was enough, he threw away the rest of his beer and headed onto step three. 

Halfway to his brothel of choice, he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He slowly looked around and then to the sky. There was quite a few umbrellas wandering the streets. He decided not to go to the brothel tonight. He just didn’t feel up to entertaining a girl. 

He turned around and walked back to his motel. But not without making a few detours to throw off anyone who might follow him. He might not look that threatening compared to some guys but in his coat pocket he carried his old pocket knife.

When he arrived at his door, he glanced around the hallway. The emptiness gave him the creeps and only enhanced his paranoia. He quickly took out the keys, fumbled with the lock, and slammed the door behind him, heart racing and adrenaline pumping. He locked the door behind him and collapsed onto the bed, calming his heart and breath. As he calmed down, he idly wondered what the hell he was so panicked about. He had done it a hundred times and there was no one around. He should be confident and outraged at his cowardice, but everything felt so muffled, slow and distant. Like the air was molasses. 

Laying on the bed, he slowly fell asleep looking at the wall.

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy folks. So I wrote this abt two years ago? I found it hidden in my files. Anyways, hope you enjoy. Likely will not continue, maybe another chapter at most but I'm pretty busy and havent watched mash in a while.
> 
> Anyways, leave a kudo, book mark, subscribe, comment!! Okay cool. peace


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